Prodigal Son
by Tweeter
Summary: We finally meet Tony's father. ONESHOT. I mean it, this time. Additional Author's Note added May 21, 2006.


A/N: This idea came to me after having a casual conversation with ResearchGeek. What if Tony's father was not what we think he is? This is not a story that paints Tony as a liar, but we all see our parents in a certain light and sometimes that light is colored by misconceptions or misunderstandings. Thank you, Rinne, for the quick beta.

**May 21, 2006 - Further note:** Due to posting problems I'm having with fanfictiondotnet, this will probably be the last story I post here. I also post on the NCIS Fanfiction Archive and Wonderful World of Makebelieve. Of course, there's always my personal fanfiction website.

Thanks to everyone who's followed my writing and given me wonderful feedback. You make it worth writing.

**Prodigal Son, by Tweeter **

Special Agent Timothy McGee was walking back to his desk when he spotted a man wearing a visitor's badge looking around the room with a concerned expression. There was something familiar about the man, but McGee couldn't put his finger on what.

"May I help you, sir?"

"I'm looking for Anthony DiNozzo." The older man's voice was deep and he spoke with an air of authority. Ziva David stood up and surveyed the man speculatively, attempting to ascertain if he was a threat.

"He should be back any minute now," replied McGee. "Is there something I can help you with in the meantime?"

"This is a personal matter." The tone was dismissive. McGee felt as if he had just been told to go to his room.

"Dad?"

Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo's voice was incredulous and nervous at the same time. McGee looked up to see Tony and their boss on the stairs. The two had been in MTAC for a briefing with the Director.

Gibbs hid the surprise he felt at the sudden appearance of the mysterious Anthony DiNozzo, Sr. There was a strong family resemblance. DiNozzo, Sr. was just over six feet tall. He had dark hair that was graying along the temples, intense green eyes and a slender physique.

The elder DiNozzo's tone was serious. "Anthony. You look well, son."

Tony cleared his throat nervously. He seemed to be standing at attention. "So do you, sir. What are you doing here?"

Ziva and McGee looked at each other in surprise. 'Sir?' mouthed Ziva. McGee shrugged, equally baffled by the formal, almost submissive tone of their teammate.

"I have some news for you. Something I didn't think was appropriate to relay over the phone," his father said gravely. He turned to Gibbs, instinctively knowing that the older agent was his son's superior. "I'm Anthony's father; you must be Special Agent Gibbs."

Gibbs shook the other man's hand, silently approving the solid grip. "Pleased to meet you, sir."

"I'm sorry it had to be under these circumstances." DiNozzo turned to his son. "Anthony, is there somewhere private we can talk?"

"I don't have any secrets from my team," replied Tony, "we can talk here." He really didn't want to be alone with his father, he always felt like he was being tested.

His father's eyes narrowed for a moment, a brief flicker of displeasure crossed his face, then it was gone.

"Your grandmother passed away yesterday, Anthony. She had a major stroke and was gone almost immediately."

Gibbs was surprised to see genuine sadness in the older man's eyes. From what he had heard, the older DiNozzo was a cold, heartless bastard. At least that was what he inferred from the occasional stories Tony would tell.

Tony looked stricken, his face paling at the news. "Nanna? Dead?"

DiNozzo put his hand on his son's shoulder. "I'm sorry, son. There was no time to call you. She died before the ambulance arrived, Martha was the only one with her."

"Martha?" queried Gibbs.

"Her housekeeper," replied Tony absently.

"I came to bring you home for the funeral. My plane will leave later this evening." DiNozzo smiled sadly at his son. "It's okay, Anthony. It happened quickly; she felt little, if any pain. I would have preferred her to go peacefully in her sleep, but this is almost as merciful."

Tony nodded, not daring to say anything for fear his voice would crack. His eyes were turning red, tears starting to trickle down his cheeks. His grandmother had been the one family member who was always there in his childhood. While his father worked long hours and his mother occupied herself with other activities, Tony had been left with housekeepers and nannies. His caregivers would take him to his grandmother's house where he would be entertained with stories about the old country and her adventures as a vibrant young woman. She was generous with hugs and kisses, affection that he rarely received from his parents.

"I'm very sorry for your loss," Gibbs said. "Tony, take all the time you need."

Tony cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. "Thanks, Boss."

Turning to the senior DiNozzo, Gibbs asked, "When is the funeral?"

"The visitation will be tomorrow, at our family church. The internment will take place the following day. Anthony will be a pallbearer, his grandmother would have liked that."

"Of course," Tony said weakly. He went to sit at his desk, the shock of the news causing him to feel slightly nauseous. Ziva went up behind him and placed comforting hands on his shoulders, massaging them gently, murmuring words of condolence.

"Tony, you should go and pack your things," Gibbs said gently. "McGee, drive him home. Ziva, go with them."

The three younger agents left the squad room, leaving Gibbs alone with the senior DiNozzo. The two men eyed each other appraisingly.

DiNozzo spoke first, "My son doesn't talk about his work very often, but I get the impression that he has a great deal of respect for you. It's good to finally meet the man who could get him to settle down."

"Tony doesn't talk much about his family," Gibbs said. "The little he has said is a bit confusing."

DiNozzo laughed. "I like your candor, Agent Gibbs. I'm sure whatever Anthony has told you was colored by the perspective of an imaginative young man."

Gibbs shook his head, smiling. "Tony's got some of the best observational skills I've ever seen in an investigator, Mr. DiNozzo, and he's got good instincts. I will grant you that he's not objective when it comes to his childhood, but he's got some insecurities that conflict with his abilities."

The older DiNozzo nodded. "Yes, he was always a sensitive boy; he gets that from his mother. Why don't we talk over some coffee?"

Gibbs grinned. "Now you're talking my language."

The two men walked to Gibbs' favorite coffee shop and sat down at a secluded table.

"You look like you have a lot of questions, Agent Gibbs," said DiNozzo, amiably. "Fire away."

"From what I gather, Mr. DiNozzo," Gibbs said, "Tony was pretty much raised by hired help. Why?"

"Please, call me Anthony, business associates call me Mr. DiNozzo."

"That must get confusing, you and your son both going by the same name," Gibbs said in surprise.

"He's only Anthony to me, there's no question of who I'm talking to. Everyone else calls him Tony," replied DiNozzo. "I call him Anthony to remind him that he's my son."

Gibbs raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"My father was a butcher, Agent Gibbs…"

"Jethro."

DiNozzo smiled, then continued, "My father was a butcher, Jethro. He came to this country with the clothes on his back. He apprenticed, worked hard and eventually had his own shop. He worked seven days a week, at least ten hours a day. His only goal was to give his children a better life. My brother became a butcher, but my father wanted me to go to college and not spend my life smelling of dead meat."

"Anthony is my only child. I wanted only the best for him." He looked up at Gibbs, smiling wryly. "The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

"I'm not an emotional person. I'm not very demonstrative, but I love my son, very much. I wanted him to be a better man than me, to have an even better life. I suppose that came across as cold and unfeeling to a sensitive boy. I worked hard, made some very good business decisions and was able to provide a better life for my family, just like my father. Unfortunately, that meant spending time away from them."

Gibbs nodded, understanding what the man meant. "What about his mother?"

The other man smiled sadly. "Anthony's mother was an emotional woman, very flighty and creative. It was what drew me to her, she was so different from me or anyone else in my family." He paused, choosing his words carefully before he spoke again. "She was fond of alcohol. A little too fond of it. It was probably better that she chose to socialize rather than raise our son."

Gibbs cleared his throat. "Tony said that his mother dressed him in a sailor suit until he was ten years old. That was the alcohol?"

DiNozzo nodded. "It wasn't meant to humiliate him, even though it did. When he was a toddler, his grandmother bought him a sailor suit. He was such a beautiful child and his mother loved him in that suit. I think it was her misguided way of keeping him her sweet baby boy."

"I don't want you to think that my wife was a drunken, abusive mother, Jethro," DiNozzo said seriously. "She had problems, but she truly loved her son, as do I. No family is perfect, and we had our dysfunctions, but Anthony was a cherished child. An only son."

Gibbs nodded. "I see. What kind of a child was Tony?"

DiNozzo laughed. "A handful."

Gibbs laughed as well. "Still is."

"Anthony was always moving; he wore out just about every housekeeper we had. He was extremely bright and curious about everything." The man laughed softly at the memory. "He was also very affectionate, always wanting to hug or cuddle. So much like his mother in that way. Like I said, I've never been very demonstrative. I got that from my father. Being affectionate was a woman's way, according to him. Things were different back then."

He took a sip of coffee before continuing. "I suppose to a sensitive child, that lack of physical affection was a kind of rejection. Of course, it's easy to say that now, looking back, but at that time that's just the way I was. I didn't know any other way to act toward a child. Encouragement took the form of berating him to be better at something. I don't think I ever acknowledged when he did something well. It was expected, not something to be praised."

DiNozzo gave Gibbs a wry grin. "I read The Wall Street Journal, not parenting books."

Gibbs chuckled. "But you took him with you when you went on those Civil War re-enactments."

DiNozzo nodded. "It was my way of spending time with him. I loved dressing up and fighting battles. I thought he'd like the shooting and the costumes."

"He didn't have much fun, did he? Not with the job he was given."

The other man shook his head. "That was the only position left for a boy his age. Believe me, I didn't want my son doing that, but there was nothing else available. We didn't continue that activity much longer, though. Unfortunately, that also meant the end to any father/son time."

DiNozzo waved a waitress over to refill their cups. The two men sat in silence for a few minutes.

Gibbs spoke first. "How in the world did you forget your son in Maui?"

The other man looked embarrassed. "Believe me, that is something that I'll feel guilty about for the rest of my life. I had taken Anthony with me on a business trip, hoping to connect with him. Unfortunately, the deal was more complicated than I expected and I spent most of the time in some very heated negotiations. I received a call during one session about another business transaction that had taken a nasty turn. That one was worth millions, so I left the meeting I was at, hopped on my plane and headed home."

"I do that all the time," he said defensively, noting Gibbs' raised eyebrow. "I would send for my things later. I totally forgot I had Anthony with me. That was the first, and last, business trip I took him on. I was in meetings nonstop before I had time to take a breath and realize what I had done. The Civil War re-enactments came after that."

"Another 'bonding' situation that did the opposite of bringing us closer together."

"I understand that my son has flourished since he's been at NCIS," DiNozzo said, casually. "You must be a very understanding boss."

Gibbs snorted. "I'm a bastard, Anthony. I go through agents like water. But I recognize talent and ability. Tony's a good man, and an excellent investigator. I'm not all touchy-feely, but I let him know, in my own way."

DiNozzo nodded. "I'm sure he appreciates that. He respects you."

"I'm sure he respects you, too," said Gibbs.

The other man shrugged. "Maybe. Out of obligation as a son, perhaps, but not the way he respects you. From what I understand, he works hard to make you proud."

"He worked hard for you too, Anthony."

DiNozzo nodded. "I know. I'm sorry I wasn't able to give him what he needed to thrive. Like I said, hindsight is 20/20."

"It's not too late to gain his respect. For one thing, you can give him some approval on his choice of careers. Put him back in your will."

DiNozzo looked up at him in surprise. "He told you I disowned him?"

"He did."

"He must really trust you, to open up like that." DiNozzo fiddled absently with his coffee cup. "I did that as a wake-up call. I wanted him to change his mind, go into some other profession, not be a cop."

"Tony's not the businessman type, Anthony."

DiNozzo waved his hand dismissively. "Sure, I would have liked him to join my firm, become my vice president and eventually take over, but he didn't have to do that. If he wanted to get into law, I would have preferred his becoming a lawyer."

Gibbs snorted.

"There's such a thing as a good, ethical lawyer, Jethro," chided DiNozzo. "We hear about the bottom-feeders and the crooks, but that's not the entire picture. There are corrupt cops; men who join the military because they like to shoot guns and want to kill people legally; but we don't paint all cops and soldiers with the same brush, do we?"

"You're right," acknowledged Gibbs.

"Would you want your only son going into a profession where people will shoot at him? People who hate him just because he wears a uniform and want him dead?"

"When you put it that way," replied Gibbs, "no, I wouldn't"

DiNozzo nodded. "I disowned him to try to make him see that his decision was terrifying for his family. It was an extreme move, I'll admit, but it was all I could think of doing. My life revolves around money. I found out that Anthony's doesn't."

"When was the last time you talked to your son?" asked Gibbs. "I mean, really sat down and had a discussion like the one we're having here?"

"Too long," replied the other man wryly. "We barely speak now."

"Don't you think it's about time you did?"

DiNozzo nodded. "We'll have time together. I'm sorry it has to be under these circumstances, but this is my wake-up call. Losing my mother so suddenly makes me see that I should mend fences before it's too late."

"I hope you do, Anthony," Gibbs said. "Tony's a sensitive man, but he's not unreasonable."

The two men stood to leave. "Just so you know, Jethro, I didn't cut Anthony off completely. He has a trust account that I contribute to annually. He can access it any time he wants. He's chosen not to, so far."

"Really? The next lunch is on him, then."

As they were leaving the coffee shop, Gibbs asked, "Was Tony ever diagnosed with ADHD?"


End file.
